


Wissbegierde - The Unfortunate Story Of Annes Guðrúnarbarn (A Skyrim Nuzlocke Challenge Diary)

by Hierophany



Series: The Diaries of Annes Guðrúnarbarn [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Adventuring, Gen, I will change these as the challenge progresses, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Protagonist, Original Character(s), Probably lots of foul language, Self-Insert, Skyrim Nuzlocke Challenge, Survival
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-05-17 10:42:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5866309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hierophany/pseuds/Hierophany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wissbegierde {noun, German}: Intellectual curiosity, thirst for knowledge. Combination of knowledge (Wissen) and desire (Begierde)</p><p>This is the roleplay diary of Annes Guðrúnarbarn for my run of the Skyrim Nuzlocke Challenge (please read the rules here: http://hierophanie.tumblr.com/post/137964967457/skyrim-nuzlocke-challenge). </p><p>We will follow Annes on their travels through Skyrim and their struggle to survive being thrown out of their day to day live into a daedric quest like none ever seen before. Will they be able to survive long enough to return back home again, or will they find a miserable end at the hands of their hostile surroundings?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sunday, 31st of January

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter length may vary broadly.  
> Future chapters will be uploaded after each survived day.

I close the door. One short glance through my room reminds me that I indeed forgot to clean up before going to work: The dirty dishes still pile on the desk, clothes are spread everywhere, college papers and long overdue library books cover what little space is left on the wooden floor.  
I take a deep breath of stale air before throwing my backpack next to my desk and myself face first onto my bed. After not moving for a few seconds and making a crude and inarticulate sound of utter frustration I turn around, staring blankly at my nightstand.

  
Work had been a mess tonight. My boss had finally showed up again after spontaneously going on a one month vacation, only to tell everyone that he would be dispatched elsewhere. The team had been shocked, though this had been the only logical way of procedure after the incident he had with the director shortly before new years... I make a face to my distorted reflection in the barely polished surface of my bedside lamp.

This would mean change, and not the good kind at that. My team had been enjoying many little benefits under his guard in the library. First picks on the open shifts, regular working hours and a steady working environment. All of that would be gone now, and the only reason for that was his stubbornness. If he would have only apologized earlier... I let out a deep sigh. This was bad, I had other things to worry about than my part time job in the library.

Doing something useful like reading for college is also out of the question for this time of the day. It would be impossible to concentrate now, and I need to get this mess out of my head. I look around, forcefully avoiding the chaos on the floor and consider firing up my Game Cube again for a second. Maybe this would be the day to finally get Epona. As I sit up again I glance over my bookshelves next to the old TV, which were covered with my CDs, mangas I had brought from Japan and old handheld consoles.

The most prominent and biggest of these items is a black book with elegant silver letters on its cover, standing at the center of the upper shelf. A pang of guilt rushes through me. I had been so excited when my friends had given it to me as a birthday present more than half a year ago, but I had never taken the time to actually read it. I get up and take it from its place.

It is heavier than it looks, the cover made from a strange velvet like material that was meant to imitate darkened leather. Knotted ornamental embroideries frame the silver diamond shaped dragon on its center, under which the glistening letters read: THE SKYRIM LIBRARY VOLUME 1: THE HISTORIES. I manage a half-hearted smile. Maybe this was the late revenge of the game and my punishment for collecting every single book I came across in Tamriel without reading any of them. Now I have no more excuses, no more quests to tend to or children to hoard with my lovely wife Lydia.

I lay back down on my bed and opened the Histories. It still has the smell of a freshly printed book on it, which broadens the smile on my face further. First comes a map of Skyrim which is identical to the one hanging over my bed, but for the language the names of holds and cities are written in. I really like the amount of details that are included in this book, the thick paper with the pretty convincing handmade paper print, the choice of fonts and most of all the really impressive concept art between the texts.

The texts are what worries me though. I had heard stories concerning the quality of the in-game lore books, had touched a few of them myself. The ones that I remembered best are the two versions of Barenziah's story, one of which is printed in the Histories, as I get to know from the index. I skip through the pages to get to her biography to re-read the horrors I had found there in the past, only to halt abruptly as I lay my eyes on a very obnoxious symbol.

Though I have never seen it before, I have a pretty good idea of whom it represents. It is an almost symmetrical and circular depiction of what could as well have been some lovecraftian abomination: the bottom half covered with entangled tentacles, some of them ending in pincers. Two of it's claws form an eye over it's body. I shudder.

  
Out of all the Daedric Princes I have always liked Hermaeus Mora the least. One reason for that probably is the way he had handled business with the First Dragonborn, one of my favorite characters in the game. The other reason is more subtle. All of the Princes try to pressure the Last Dragonborn into their service one way or another in the game, most of them with really obscure reasoning and terribly executed quest lines attached.

Hermaeus Mora though... He is the Prince that comes closest to the old depictions of salomonic demons. He by himself is neither good nor evil, merely indifferent to the affairs of men and mer alike and only interested in collecting knowledge through all means necessary. Should I ever have the unfortunate lack of luck to meet this one in person, I mumble to myself, I would be fooled by him the second I'd laid my eye on his many, well, eyes.

Unlimited knowledge is something I am definitely weak for, that I would do basically anything for, no matter what, as I have painfully been made aware of during his quests. Thriving for knowledge, be it academic or trivial, has been my main motivator in life as long as I can think back. While most daedra's ploys are easy to see for what they were, Mora's involvement has always struck me as hard to predict and deadly. I shake my head. That one surely gives me the creeps.

I browse back to where Barenziah's biography is and start reading, only to soon lose focus of the letters. I feel a weird dizziness seemingly coming from the center of my brain. Maybe I am tired, I think, it has been a long day at work. I try to concentrate on the story again, but I definitely feel somewhat physically unwell. Have I caught a cold? I check my forehead for fever, but I seem to be alright. I shrug and returned to the text, only to have my vision start to slowly blurr. Good, maybe I would read another time and just call it a day. Then I jump at something.

There has been a movement at the corner of my eye. I stare at the wall next to my bed. Something black, moving fast. A house spider? I feel uncomfortable now. I have locked the door after entering my room, right? Not that I would have to worry that any of my flatmates would enter without knocking first, none had ever tried in all the years I have been living here. It was probably just a shadow cast by my long hair, I tell myself. I listen for sounds for a minute, but everything stays silent.

Lost in thought again I scratch my arm, only to retreat my hand as if I had burned myself. There is a strange dark liquid sticking to my fingers and my elbow respectively. I stare at it for a few moments in total confusion. What on all earth is that? I check my arm for an injury but find none. Only a small trail of the odd liquid covering my skin. My heart starts to beat faster. My first impulse from years of consuming horror games is to look up, but my ceiling shows no sign of demonic possession. I furrow my brows. Maybe I should just go to sleep now, my mind is starting to behave unreasonably.

As I move to close the book on my lap, I pause my hand just before it reach the cover. The page laying open before me has nothing to do with Barenziah. It shows the same crude symbol I have seen before. And it stares right back.

"HOLY FUCK" I yell as I kick the blankets and the book on top of them away from me. It lands with its back facing up on the floor with a weird smack.  
I am standing on my bed now, heart racing, unable to comprehend what I have just seen. The silence in my room is only disturbed by my fast and heavy breathing. At least I haven't woke up anyone. But is that really a relief? Did I just finally go crazy? I barely dare to take my eyes off the book in front of my bed, but manage to scan the corners of my small room for anything suspicious. Everything looks normal. Reluctantly I slide my back down the wall and sit down on my pillow, mustering the black book from squinty eyes.

What on all earth did just happen? Did I really see an actual eye on the top of the creature’s shapeless body instead of the simplistic symbol that has been there before? I have absolutely no ambition to confirm that by turning the book over. I force myself to breath more slowly. I probably just made that up. There is no way some Bethesda merch develops magical properties. That is nonsense. And I have no reason to assume that that is indeed the case, right? My tired mind just played me a trick, maybe as a response to watching too many horror let's plays. I let out a deep sigh. Maybe if I just cover the damned thing with one of my blankets I can finally get some sleep.

My pulse doesn’t slow down and even seems to pitch up again as I grab the woolen cover blanket to place it on the floor. Then I notice something. Clearly visible in the light of my bedside lamp is a puddle of dark, sticky liquid surrounding the book. I raise an eyebrow. There are soft ripples on the surface, echoing my heartbeat. I slowly shake my head. "Nope" I say, considering to just turn off the light and go to sleep as a reasonable option. Then I see the movement again.

This time it doesn’t vanish. It is hard to spot in the dim light of the lamp, but there certainly is a small orb of blackness, of absolute absence of light floating right above my desk. I feel too tired to scream, the weird dizziness in my head getting stronger, softly throbbing in the same rhythm as the slightly shaking book on the ground. The orb seems to grow slowly, and there, there was another right above my wardrobe! The air in the room seems too heavy to inhale, getting thicker by the second. Maybe the balcony is safe I consider as I reach for the doorknob next to my bed stand.

I nearly launch my hand into a greenish eyeball of the size of a fist. "For FUCK'S SAKE wha-" was all that I manage to say before being interrupted by a sudden movement from the spreading pool next to me. More eyes appear, accompanied by slowly moving black things that reminded me of worms. I reach for my pillow and smacked it over the eyeball closest to my face. It makes a loud screeching sound, but otherwise only seems to grow even faster in response. I punch it again, this time sending the bedside lamp flying in the process. It crashes into the pool of pulsing black tentacles that embrace it immediately. There is a loud crack and a short flash of electricity as the lamp is crushed by the blackness, followed by a crunching noise as it slowly submerges into the matter. Then I am surrounded by darkness.

Willing to risk touching the orbs in the process, I leap from my bed to reach the front door, now praying that I didn’t lock it. My foot never touches the floor but seems to sink right through a wet gooey moving bottomless mess, causing me to fall head first onto the rug. Panicking I try to free myself through kicking and getting up, but the cold grip of the blackness pulls me down again. "You gotta be kidding me!" I hiss as I try to get hold of anything to pull me free. The liquid rapidly soaks through my clothing, slowing down my movements and and sucking all warmth out of me. More and more eyes appear above, unblinkingly watching my struggle. I yell and curse and kick, but there is nothing in my reach to hold on to. And despite the adrenaline pumping through my veins, I feel tired, so tired...

Then the pain starts. Beginning from the leg that sunk in first and slowly spreading up to my now submerged stomach I feel like the throbbing intestines surrounding me start to rip the meat from my body. I cry out in pain through the haze of soft green light obscuring my vision, only to be pulled down entirely by the tentacles a second later. I choke immediately and can feel my eyes rolling back. The last thing I notice is the firmness of the fake leather cover of the Histories touching my hand as the wet mass around me tears at and crushes my body. Then there is nothing.


	2. The Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of my editing has been undone by the html text tool upon copying it into Ao3's editor, nice. I'll fix that next week.  
> Edit: Fixed the formatting. 
> 
> I'm not really happy with the style I chose for this chapter since this was supposed to be a diary, but I wanted to get it out of my system. I might restructure it in the future. If you find really terrible grammatical errors or things that don't make sense to you as a native speaker please let me know.

I'm floating, at least I think I am. I've never felt so... _light_.  
But there is no light either. Either that, or I lost my sight...

I can't tell for how long I've been here. Or where here is. It's really hard to form words, to think. I feel... empty? I think. Do I?

Do _I_ think?

 

After what could both have been a millennium and a second at the same time, I feel a pull. Suddenly there is direction again in my world and a blur of light in the far distance. Something grabs me, though I seem to lack a body to grab, grabs what ever _I_ am and pulls me towards the light and squeezes me painfully together. I feel like I'm suffocating, as if someone tried to fit the entirety that is ME into a matchbox. The edges of my being blur, almost breaking under the pressure. Then, with the sound of something heavy hitting water after falling forever, there is the pain again. I want to scream, to cry, to run, but there are no muscles to move.  
Then all sensations fade again.  
...  
..  
.

.  
..  
...

There is the sound of voices over the near rushing of water, distant first.

     "It must have been somewhere here."  
     "A-are you sure, mistress? If it is true what you saw, it might be dangerous to approach."

     "Oh, be silent, Adra, I can protect myself. Like whom do you expect us to find here? Akatosh himself? It was probably just some poor fool who messed up a conjuration, that is a-, oh look! Over there!"

Steps, coming closer...? Yes, two pair of feet on gravel. One with fast and long strides, the other following hesitantly.

     "P-please be careful, m-mistress!"

Someone sniffed the air.  
I can't move.

     "This is definitely where the lightning struck. It still smells burned, see?"

My head weights a thousand tons. I'm phasing out again, like floating through water...

     "Uh, yes. C-Could we pl-ase -urn around n-w? I fe--.. eh, hungry. Yes!"

     "You're straining -- patience, Adr-. If y-- won't beha--, I --ll have to kill yet another apprent---. Is that... I think we found th- b-dy."

Someone touches my throat. My throat? I feel heavy again, feel the full weight of a body pressing me to the ground. It doesn't move though. Why... doesn't it move?!

     "No pulse. Must have killed them on the spot. But the body is still warm... Weren't you hungry Adra? That one is just as good as a living one."

Why can't I breathe?! Something is wrong. I need to... To get away! Yes. Now I'm sure.

     "That is, err, very kind of you, mistress. I, yes. That is a splendid idea. I-"

They will hurt me. They are here to hurt me or kill me or torture me, I know all of a sudden with absolute clarity. I need to run! But why can't I move?!

     "You prefer it when your victims show some more... resistance, right? We can fix that. Just a second-"

Something warm hits my chest with the impact of a truck. The body violently twitches as I suddenly suck in a breath through a cramped jaw, throwing my eyes open. Coughing, I try to sit up. I feel the sting of what might have been thousands of needles on my naked skin, the coolness of the night air that makes me shiver, tiny stones cutting my legs and air burning like fire in my lungs all at once.

     "Wow, I did not know that raising the dead actually lets them come back completely! Are they fully alive again? Your abilities know no end, mistress!"

     "Don't be stupid! Something went wrong. My spells was-"

This is the worst hangover I have ever had. I try to focus my vision, but I can only guess where the two women stand. Their eyes seem to glow in the dark. My breathing is irregular as I try to coordinate my arms and legs. They have a really weird length somehow.

     "Stand back, they might be dangerous. Hey! Where do you think you are going?"

I stand now, shakingly, every hair on my body standing up. It's really damn cold. What was I doing again...?  
The one that seems to be in charge has a bulb of eerie red light coming from her hands now. AH. I wanted to run. In which direction...?  
I look around. We stand in the middle of nowhere between some large rocks, a small path behind the women. Behind me is the river.

     "Don't you DARE-"

I make a huge leap into the water. All the precious air is smashed out of my lungs again as liquid ice bites into my flesh. I kick and fling myself into the direction I suspect to be Up and swallow a big load of water as I break through the surface. The panic returns. Now fully awake I try to coordinate my movements to keep me afloat. Some meters away I can hear the women curse and throw something glowing towards my direction. I bob underwater again and I try my best to actually start swimming. The water drains what little warmth there is left out of me. I need to get out of here right now. As I struggle to climb to the bank of the river I hear a terrifying screech somewhere close. More yelling, flashing of red light. I struggle to stop myself from just falling back into the water again, my limbs heavy and unresponsive. RUN. And that I do.

I have no idea where to go, but away from these weird ladies seems like a good start. I see the road again and breathlessly try to follow it. There is light just a few dozen meters away! A person, holding a torch. I wave my arms and try to yell, but only produce a coughing fit which forces me to double over as I spit out water.

     "Ho, are you okay?"  
The man comes running towards me, shakes me as I struggle to breath.

"N-no! No, please help me!" I feel hot tears running down my cheeks. Shaking, I look up and fail to make any sense of what I see. The man is clad in what could be, with some goodwill, viking inspired armor with a blue scarf thrown over his gambeson and chainmail. His torch smells really bad.

     "What happened lad? Were you robbed? Where are your clothes?"

"My clothes...?" Now that he mentions it, I understand that I am indeed naked. And why am I apparently on some LARP con?! What on all earth is even going on.  
"I h-have, have no i-id-d-dea what hap-p-p-pened, s-sir. Please, I need h-help!"

     "Come on then, the inn is just around the corner. Can you walk?"

 

I'm sitting in a tub with warm water so hot it feels like I'm boiled alive. I have no idea how I got here. The room is lit by a few candles. I furrow my brows. Why do the renaissance fair people never get the candles right? The peasants probably burned reed or turf crumbles, candles were only for the rich and pretty. As were swords. Still every damned fool on a renaissance fair has at least one.

My head hurts and I'm still shaking. But why am I here anyway? I really can't recall how I got on this con. There is no band on my wrist either- I stop in my train of thought. There is nothing on my left wrist. I haven't seen it like this for seven years, when I got my first festival wristband. The tiny scar on my other wrist is still where it belongs. My hand immediately reaches for my neck, searching for the silver necklace. It is missing as well. A pang of fear hits me again. No matter how authentic these people play, I would have never voluntarily taken of that necklace. I would get into trouble if I lost it somehow.  
And why had nobody called the medics when they saw me? Something was really off about this place.

Trying to make sense of anything, I start to look around as a wooden door behind me swings open. A middle aged woman in eclectic high-medieval apparel enters the room, looking worried.

     "Is it warm enough? I can bring more hot water if you want me to."

"It's just fine, thank you." I lie, still looking confused. There is something familiar about her, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

     "I'm glad. The guard said you were mugged? What were you doing on the road in the middle of the night anyway?"

I ponder on that for a second. The more I try to think about it, the worse my head gets.  
"I... can't really recall how I came here, to be honest. I woke up to these to strange women discussing which way was the best to eat me, then I ran. One was called Elba? No, uh, Alba maybe..?"

The woman seems frightened by that.

     "So Roggi was right about the vampires! By the Nine, that is bad news. I thought he was making that up so that Kjeld would stop bothering him about his tab..."  
"By the Nine?" I repeat absentmindedly. Where had I heard that before?

     "Oh, are you some kind of Imperial sympathist? I thought you to be Nord... You'll be better off if you don't brag about that here, or you will get into trouble. Everyone here follows the old ways, though most come here for Kyne, it being Kynesgrove and all."

"Kynes...grove?" I stammer like an idiot.

     "Did you hit your head? This is Braidwood Inn in Kynesgrove. But I suppose you were on your way to Windhelm, Eastmarsh's capital. That's were everyone is headed to nowadays, with Ulfric's call to arms.", she continued with a bitter expression. "It sure brings more business than the occasional traveler and the miners, but... Oh, but I shouldn't bore you with that. What is your name, by the way?"

I look at her blankly. All of that made no sense at all. This better has to be the best LARP group I have ever encountered. Specializing on The Elder Scrolls like this is rare, with such an eye for details. Impressive. The people here seem really dedicated to their roles, so it seems only appropriate to answer with my reenactment name.

"I am Annes, child to the healers Guðrún and Mikjáll."

     "Annes Mikjállsbarn then? I'm Iddra Sverrirsdóttir, the inkeep."

I can't help but making a grimace.  
"Actually... it's Guðrúnarbarn. Nice to meet you, Iddra. I'm sorry to ask, but do you have some clothes to spare?"

     "Ah, I see. I can ask Kjeld if he can give you some of his tunics. Say Annes, were you travelling with someone?" She looks at me quizzically.

"No. I think I was travelling alone, but I can't really tell for sure." My stomach rumbles loudly. I can't help but to blush. Iddra laughs, but looks worried nonetheless.

     "I guess that settles it then. I'll be right back with some clothes and a piece of bread. The room next to this is yours."

"I..." If this was a con I had probably payed upfront for any accommodations. But something, something told me that this might not be the case. I decided to stay in character, doing my best to suppress the voice screaming completely nonsensical things in the back of my head. 

"My possessions have been taken Iddra, I have nothing to pay you with." She knows that, of course. But I need to know how to deal with this right away. Iddra shrugs.

     "You look strong, you sure can work it off in the mines."

With that, she leaves the room again. The water is cold by now.

 

Half an hour later I have wolfed down the bread and water Iddra brought me and am wearing a more or less clean pair of simple woolen pants with a linen tunic on top. The fabric reminds me of many warm summer nights with my friends, drinking mead around a fire while somewhere close by people are dancing with poi and some band plays Irish folk songs from the nearest stage. All that seems far away as I get up of the smelly reindeer pelt that covers the straw mattress on my bed. It's dark in my room, so I open one of the shutters in front of the window to find the final confirmation I dreaded. There, on the clear night sky surrounded by breathtaking aurora borealis stands not one, but two giant moons, shining ominously. I slowly step back, covering my mouth with one hand, until I fall over the bed post and find myself on the floor.

This is impossible. This makes absolutely no sense. This defies all laws of physics!  
Tearing up again, I crawl onto the bed and cower myself into the corner, shaking heavily. I can't hold the tears now, still trying to muffle the sounds as good as I can. What the ever loving fuck.

I must be dreaming, or in some kind of coma. Hopefully this doesn't work like .hack//, I tell myself while trying to calm down somehow. But there is no way to be calm about this. I REFUSE to accept this, this is goddamned bullshit!

The light of Masser and Secunda coming through the window seems to mock me. Bullshit, I say. You don't just... just wake up in a fucking computer game. Calm down Annes, there must be a logical explanation to this. Maybe .hack// wasn't too bad for a lead. Maybe I fell into a coma and am now vividly hallucinating. Great, and if I die here I'll die in real life, too, or what. THAT sure is reassuring. Skyrim has more ways to die than most other games that I have played recently. Dragons. There'd be dragons. Oh my god. No, try to think straight. My subconsciousness is probably trying to tell me something with this. Let's calm down and analyse this-

-and what about the fucking vampires? The vampires that nearly killed me again just a few hours ago? Killed me- Wait. Wait wait wait. I had been dead, right? I didn't breathe when they found me. Did she revive me? Am I a thrall now? I don't feel anymore particularly undead than usual. And how did I come... here? Unless this is a really extensive art installation to fuck me up I'm not on earth anymore. That thought alone almost makes my bowels turn.  
It would mean that I am now on Nirn, in... in Tamriel.

While running through hundreds of panicked thoughts, I don't realise how the exhaustion takes it's toll and I slowly drift into an unruly sleep.


	3. Day 1

The first thing I know when I wake up is that I am going to die.

I sit up suddenly after what feels like only a few minutes of sleep and look around confused, unable to make sense of what I see. I'm half way through wondering whether I have to go to work today as I take in my surroundings and remember the last night. I stare blankly at the bare wooden wall in front of me, then slap myself in the face. The wall is still there and now my face burns. Great.

Shakingly I try to get up, the conclusion I came to before I went to sleep rushing back with full force.

This is no dream. I am still here. And that means I am in really deep trouble.

I have to steady myself on the bed post as my throat swells shut and my chest gets heavy. I know precisely what is about to happen as my breathing comes out flat and panicked, but I force myself to focus my thoughts on something else. I notice the noises from the taproom and realize that I must have overslept. They will surely kick me out if I don't hurry and start to earn my food here.

Still having difficulties to breath regularly, I pull the tunic with shaky hands over the woolen undergarment that Iddra had given me last night. Hoping that I don't look just like the mess I feel I am, I hastily enter the bar room, only to almost run headfirst into the strangest looking person I have ever seen. An old woman with the skin color of a bog body wearing a dark robe eyes me with something that strongly feels like disapproval before folding her arms in front of her chest.

    "Are you done staring, outsider?", she asks with so much spite in her voice that I flinch back.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude" 

Ashamed, I hastily lower my gaze, fighting back the tears, then scanning the room for Iddra. "Is the innkeeper around?"

    "Pah, it's always the same with you Nords. If you are looking for Iddra, she should be at the camp handing out rations right now. Hush, begone!"

I hurry out of the inn to get away from the angered Dunmer, still feeling her stare on my back as I step out of the heavy wooden door. It is one thing to look at mer through a screen but a whole different matter to actually meet one in person. My heart drops a beat as I can’t help to imagine what meeting a dragon will feel like. Short and painful, probably.

Looking up, I am stunned by the incredibly beautiful landscape in front of me, now clearly visible in the daylight: I can see the street I must have come running last night just below the inn and watch the sun reflect on the river beyond it. Above, on the other side of the shore, a small line of trees is draped like a belt around a range of enormously high peaked mountains. The air is moist and filled with the smell of pinewood and the voices of unfamiliar birds. I can't help but to smile, relaxing for a moment. Skyrim sure is a beautiful place.

Slowly walking around the inn and uphill towards where I remember the small miners camp to be, I wonder how I will continue from here. Failing to understand how or why I am here, I don't really know what to do with myself. Maybe if I recall how I got here things will make more sense. I scratch my head. Somehow the shock of waking up next to a couple of vampires must have blurred my memories. Trying to think of how I came to be lying by the river in the first place gives me a terrible headache. I shrug, pushing that off for now while I get closer to the fireplace in the center of the small circle of tents.

A few Stormcloak soldiers are taking their break along with some of the miners, all of whom are standing around Iddra. The innkeeper is hunched over a giant kettle over the fire, stirring some sort of soup. It feels awkward to approach her now, obviously too late to help her with the preparations. I can feel my courage leaving me. Maybe it is for the best if I ask uphill whether the miners need help before she notices me, I decide as I turn around halfway, doing my best to push down the anxiety bubbling up in my guts. This is not going well.

Just as I walk up the small path leading further up the hill, I notice a clearing to my right. The circular mound in its center looks somewhat familiar, though I can’t really recall as to why until I have almost reached the Stormcloak sentry standing in front of the mine's entrance. I stop mid stride as realization hits me hard like a truck. That's the dragon burrow. The one opened during _A Blade in the Dark_ with Delphine by the Dragonborn.

It is still closed. Does that mean the Dragonborn hasn't come through here? Wait. This is Skyrim. I am a player character. Does that mean I am the Dragonborn? I can not help but to huff as I look down myself. I will need to slay a dragon to confirm that and I absolutely don't think that this is going to happen. Also, the Dragonborn would have woken up on a cart to Helgen, right?

Out of the corner of my eye I can see the sentry raising an eyebrow at me, but I can't help myself. For the first time since I woke up last night I feel like I understand something. Since she is Stormcloak, it must be at least 4 E 201. Ulfric seems to already rule over Windhelm, just as Iddra had mentioned. But she had also told me that Ulfric is still collecting his troops, meaning that he hasn't marched yet. The civil war hasn't happened at this point. Well, of course not, the Blades' quest comes first and the barrow is still sealed. What if...

"Excuse me, I'm a bit disoriented right now. Could you tell me what date it is?" I say as I realize just about how stupid that must have sounded. I feel the heat rising in my cheeks.

    "It's Sundas...?" She looks like she is unsure whether I might be a threat to her or not.

"Uh, it's Last Seed, right?" I try to lead her on.

    "Yeah, the 17th I think. Have you hit your head?" Her hand lays on her sword's hilt now.

Gods save me. "Yes! Ah, I'm sorry. Iddra send me, I am supposed to help in the mines." The 17. of Last Seed in the 201st year of the Fourth Era. I must have woken up around midnight between the vampires then. Today the town of Helgen would be burned to ashes by Alduin the World Eater.

    "I see. She said you would come, though I expected you to be here earlier. Well then, help yourself to a pickax and get going."

I nod and go to pick up one of the tools lying around near a cart by the entrance. I'm glad that I have my back turned towards the sentry so she can't see my shocked face. My thoughts are racing. Is there any way for me to prevent that onslaught? To warn them? 

Wait, what do I even care? That are only NPC’s losing hit points in a scripted event. And I am in no position to run through a burning castle, kill a bunch of soldiers, hide from the Thalmor and chase off a god dragon marked as essential during my own execution. And none of that will actually happen should this version of the game have chosen me as Dragonborn. In that case I just need to avoid ever going to Helgen, right? 

“Shall I explain to you what a pickax is?” I hear the guard sneer behind me. I must have stared at the cart for a minute, only now realizing my mistake.

“Sorry, I was just lost in thought.” Hastily I take the one lying on top of the pile.

“You better get lost in that mine now or I will loose my patience.” 

Out of the corner of my eye I recognize the ores stored on the cart. Though I'm not 100% sure about it, I seem to remember that malachite is poisonous when it comes in contact with water. There is no way I can back out of this now though, so I hope the mine is more or less dry.

 

The tunnel is dark and the fungi on the floor tell their own story about the humidity of the place. Even though it is unnaturally warm in here I shudder. As I try to find a vein that hasn't been emptied, a middle-aged Nord comes up to me, his own pickax resting on his shoulder.

    "You're Annes, right? The name's Roggi Knot-Beard, but Roggi is fine. You worked a mine before?"

His voice is pleasant and the wrinkles on his face speak of laughter, though I can tell even in the unsteady light of the smelly torches that he has dark circles under his eyes.

"I can't recall to ever having done some mining in the past, but I will do my best" I admit. My urge to run and hide somewhere is getting stronger, but I am well aware that this might be the safest place to be for me as for now. As long as they will let me stay here, that is. And if I don't prove myself as useful soon that is not going to be very long.

Roggi laughs at the grim determination on my face and shoves me to the nearest vein, pointing to the scorchers I need to avoid. After showing me the right way to hold the pickax and to strike, he leaves me to my work and wanders off deeper into the mine.

I am not used to hard physical labor so I feel my muscles ache badly after what might have been half an hour, and the damp heat is really getting to me. The air down here is bad, though I notice it to be easier to breathe near the softly glowing bowls of light blue salt on the floor.

Concentrating on hitting the vein in an angle that produces bigger chunks of malachite while keeping my balance and trying not to breath in too deeply, I do not find the time to think about my new discoveries. As I take a short break in hopes that my hands aren't full of blisters already, my thoughts return to the subject at hand. Am I the Dragonborn in this game? I surely am not in Helgen at the moment, but I have no idea what kind of instance of the game I am in. Is this vanilla Skyrim, are the DLC's active? I know there are mods that let you spawn outside of Helgen. I mean I am a Nord, apparently, and the game treats a Nord Dragonborn as the default through its story and dialogue. I also surely am not originally from Skyrim, as supposedly is the protagonist of the main story. I scowl at the mushrooms at my feet. " _YOL!_ " I shout. Nothing happens.

I don't know what I expected. Just knowing the meaning of a word in Dovahzul isn't all it takes to use the thu'um. I'm angry nonetheless. The feeling of being 'naked' and vulnerable without some weapon or armor in this world is slowly dragging on me, for my encounter with the vampires showed to me how short my life here will if I don't watch my every step. But what would I do with a weapon, kill someone? Run around and rob clothes and goods from never rotting corpses?

And what will happen if I die here? My arms hurt badly, so even if dying should help me wake up back home, I would probably still feel the full impact of whatever gruesome way I might find my end here. I sigh. Feeling really hungry now I follow the shallow light of the lanterns deeper down the tunnel to find Roggi, returning to my thoughts again.

The main quest won't be triggered if the Dragonborn doesn't enter Helgen. Therefore, if I stay here, everything should be fine, right? No civil war, no burned down Helgen, no end of the world. But what if that is what I need to do? What if I need to speak to Paarthurnax or Alduin to be able to leave? The veil of time and space is thin at the Throat of the World, and I won't be able to enter High Hrothgar unless I am Dragonborn. But why am I here?

It's the second time today I almost collide with someone.

    "Watch your step!"

The woman that just came around the corner looks at me disdainfully, then passes by without bothering to give me a second look. I shrug and find a table with some food and drink where she came from. There is no one close by to ask whether it is fine for me to take from the things left there. For some reason unknown to me, I feel like it will be fine doing so though. After eating half a loaf of bread and an apple and shortly wondering why there is a rug and two deer skulls just laying around in the far off corner, I follow the rhythmic singing of metal on stone deeper into the mine.

 

I find Roggi sweating and out of puff bend over several well formed ores of malachite, waving at me as I come closer.

    "Huh, done already? Nah, don't sweat it kid, it's your first day. You'll get used to it in no time. Just take a break and try again later. You're doing nobody a favor by overstraining yourself."

His warm smile makes me exhale a breath I didn't know I was holding. I grimace nonetheless.

"I only managed to get one ore out so far. This way I will never be able to pay Iddra for the accommodation and the clothes."

Roggi laughs at that. "So we are in the same boat then! Poor Iddra is probably used to it by now." His smile fades a bit. "Though I wish it wasn't my fault. If I could only get back that thrice damned shield, I would be able to pay my debt off in no time! It was lost by my ancestor Lenne in a cave nearby. Some monster must have slain him for he never returned. But I'm no warrior and a pickax will do me no good against some giant spider."

I nod in agreement. "That's a shame, I'm sorry to hear that. Hopefully you can get one of the soldiers to help you, or find an adventurer strong enough to slay that beast." Maybe that was a bit too forceful, but I seem to get the point across. Roggi looks disappointed, stroking his infamous beard with a deep sigh. "I guess it can't be helped, then. Come back later, Iddra should start with the preparation for dinner soon."

I look at him a bit lost, but the conversation definitely seems to be over as he turns around to continue his mining, so I feel like I have no other choice than to leave the mine. As I am halfway out of the tunnel I suddenly hear a loud crack and a whizzing sound, shortly followed by a yell of pain. The Dunmer mage I met earlier shoves me aside and runs down the mine cursing, the air around her suddenly changing density, like steam above a pot of boiling water.

    "By Azura, Kjeld, I told you to stay away from it!"

I hurry out to inform the sentry of the incident, but she only shrugs.

    "Ah, so Kjeld didn't heed Dravynea's warnings again. Don't worry, they fight about the security of the mine all day. And a slight burning hasn't killed anyone here, at least not in a while."

She chuckles at her own joke, but I can't find anything particularly amusing about people being boiled alive, so I leave her to herself. I walk down to the inn with a frown, only interrupted in my thoughts by a soldier coming towards me from the street.

    "There you are, lad! I was worried you'd make it. Looked pretty bad last night."

I smile as I recognize him as my savior from before. "Thank you so much for helping me. I don't think I would be alive now if it weren't for you. Do you have trouble with vampires often?"

    "Vampires, huh? That mage mer is protecting the settlement with a lot of spells and charms, so we are rarely bothered by pests like that. Are you sure it was the blood suckers?"

I nod, but can’t help but notice the disdain in his voice. Suddenly, I have an idea. "Since it's day now, they can't come out, right? I was thinking about checking the area for hints for what I was doing before they tried to eat me." I desperately need to understand how I came here to make a plan on how to get out of here, alive preferably. The place where I woke up is the only lead I have right now.

    “I’ve heard they burn up in the sun, but you can never be sure about that if they’re hungry, or so I’ve been told. Maybe you shouldn’t go alone. Don’t look much like a warrior, do you.”

“I… guess not.” Though I learned how to use sword, shield and bow from my reenactment group, I have never fought with the intend to harm anyone before. And I currently don’t even own the clothes I’m wearing and the food in my stomach, let alone a weapon. 

    “My shift ends in a bit. If you want to, I could come with you.” I look at him with surprise. His voice is firm and he shows no sign of nervousness as he speaks, so I assume that he has no ulterior motives with his offer. 

“Thank you, that would probably be for the best.” I answer hesitantly nonetheless.

    “I’m Ragnar, like Ragnar the Red, you know. My mother had some sense of humor.” He laughs a deep hearty laugh, not seeming to notice my wariness.  

“Nice to meet you Ragnar, I’m Annes.” I answer, not sure about what he is referring to. Just as I wonder how I will keep this more or less awkward conversation going I see Iddra coming out of the inn. “I’ll meet you here.” I say as I storm off, praying that she isn’t going to kill me.

 

“Ah, Annes, I was just looking for you. Are you done with the mines for now?” Before I can think of an uncompromising answer, she continues, “I have something to do for you. You see that patch of cabbages over there? Take a basket and bring me as many as you can carry to the kitchen.” With that she is gone again, leaving me a bit lost on the front porch. Glad to be able to actually help with something, I get to work.

A bit later I carry a full basket of tiny but healthy looking cabbages back into the inn, where Iddra is already cutting potatoes and doing her best not to look at a red-faced Nord leaning on the bar. Though never having met him in person, I’m certain that this must be Kjeld, her husband. As I put the basket down, he whirls around and eyes me up with a look that sets off several alarm bells in my head. 

“And what exactly do you think are you doing wearing my tunic, brat? You think you can just sneak in here in the middle of the night, take my goods and eat my food? Huh?!” His booming voice clangs from the high ceilings as he stands up to his full height, half a head taller than I. I freeze, looking at Iddra for help, but she keeps staring at her potatoes, lips pressed together into a small line.

“I came here running for my life last night and was glad to find the hospitality of your village. I am working to pay off the costs I have caused. I am sorry if I caused you any inconvenience with this.” I explain slowly, forcing myself to keep eye contact with him, my voice shaking. I’m not good at dealing with threat display like this. In the middle of folding his arms in front of his chest he flinches and only then do I notice the barely healed angry red blisters covering his right side, probably from when he hit the scorcher earlier today. Either Restoration really isn’t Dravynea’s strong point, or she and Kjeld really must hate each other.

“And what use would I have for a sorry sod like you? There’s a war coming and I don’t have the resources to feed anyone coming by just like that.” 

I really don’t know what to respond. The seconds tick by as my hands tighten around the willow handles of the basket. I worked today, but was it enough to justify my accommodation? What does a miner earn in an hour in Kynesgrove? What worth has a meal and a bed in an inn in times of war? Is that even his point? Will anything I say appease him? 

    “Leave them be, Kjeld. They work in the mines and help me out in the kitchen. We both know that you don’t have enough workers to deny anyone to help with the malachite.” Iddra’s voice is quiet but firm, though she doesn’t look up. 

Kjeld doesn’t even look at her and snorts. “You want to work in the mines then? Fine, then you’ll sleep in the tents like a miner, wear the rags of a miner and eat the rations of a miner.” With that he storms off, leaving me and his wife to an uncomfortable silence.

 

After we finished preparing the stew for the evening, Iddra sends me off for the day. Though I feel tired I don’t want to miss my opportunity to leave the village without dying immediately. 

The sun is already hanging deep in the sky when I join Ragnar down at the street. As we walk southward along the river he tries to strike up a friendly conversation again, but I have difficulties to concentrate. I feel bad for getting Iddra into trouble like this. And I’m not sure if it is safe for me to leave the village at all, more so now that the sun is setting. As I lead the way, I am surprised just how far I must have run the night before. Nothing really feels familiar now that I look at the stones and bushes in the fading daylight. 

Then I notice the faint smell of burned grass lingering between the boulders. Suddenly I remember something, an extreme sensation hard to put into words. Somewhat like falling through the floor all of a sudden, like being grabbed by your spine and violently forced through the eye of a needle.

I stumble slightly, covering my mouth with my hand to suppress the sudden rush of nausea. I try to overplay it with coughing, but I see the worry in Ragnar’s eyes as he catches up with me. 

Behind another huge pile of rocks we find a free space that might have been blackened by an explosion. There is an oddly shaped patch of grass in its center. I feel unwell looking at it. 

    “This must be where they attacked you.” Ragnar says, looking really nervous now. The place has a weird buzz about it, making it feel off, unnatural. I do my best to avoid the burned space and look around, searching the ground. There has to be something here, runes left by the vampires explaining my summoning,

 anything. But I can find nothing out of the normal while the sunset is turning the surroundings orange and my nausea is getting worse. 

“There is no point in endangering the both of us any further. Sorry for bringing you here for nothing Ragnar, let’s head back. I’m sure both of us want to be back at the inn before dusk settles in and-” 

As I turn around to face Ragnar I see a black rectangle on the floor, right in front of his feet. 

“Is… something off?” He asks, looking down confused. For some reason, he doesn’t seem to see what I am seeing there. 

Hastily I walk up to him and pick the book out of the dirt. I recognize the fake leather cover immediately. It is the Histories.

    “Where did you-”

“It was lying right there.” I interrupt him, staring at it absentmindedly. It is unnaturally clean, despite having been lying on the ground and who knows where else. My head starts to hurt really bad. Every theory I tried to make up over the day to somehow make sense of my situation crumbles to dust.

    “I was sure…nevermind. Do you know it?”

“It is mine. I must have lost it here.” I rub my temple as the memories slowly come back and have to stop the urge to just throw the book far away from me. Because of this damned thing I am here. Because of it I will most likely die here. If it got me here though, it might be able to bring me back again, too. 

 

We hurry back to the inn in silence. I can feel Ragnar stare, though he pretends to just check for enemies coming down the road each time I catch him. While I realize that I need to provide a satisfying explanation for my behavior to Ragnar right now to prevent rumors and endanger my stay in the village, I can’t muster the energy to come up with a good lie. Or do anything else but walking and staring blankly at my surroundings. 

The book lies heavy in my hand. Ragnar eyes it too, but with something that reminds me more of fear than concern. As we reach the village I thank him for accompanying me and promise to make up for it as soon as possible, but his laughter seems forced now. He wishes me a pleasant night and can’t seem to get away fast enough, but I’m too tired to make sense of his behavior now. 

 

A wave of music and muggy air rolls over me as I enter the bar room. In one corner Roggi and Kjeld share some drinks while talking under their breath. At the fireplace in the center of the room stand two women, most likely sisters, who seem to have had quite some mead themselves over the course of the evening. They sing and giggle a lot, each correcting the other’s lines after each verse. At the bar itself Iddra is cleaning some tankards while a boy tries to swat the buzzing flies with a long rod. He doesn’t seem to be older than eight and feels really out of place in a bar at this time of day to me, but the other patrons just seem to ignore him. 

Iddra notices me immediately and waves me over. “I talked to Kjeld again.”, she said in a voice so low that I can barely hear her over all the noise. “He might be mayor, but the inn still belongs to me. Unless you want to move to the camp, you are free to stay here as long as you like.” 

“I… thank you. But I really don’t want to cause you any more trouble.” I completely forgot about the incident over my strange findings. Sleeping in one of the simple pelt tents in the cold doesn’t seem overly appealing, but I really have asked enough of Iddra.

She sighs deeply and looks at me from tired eyes. “Stop being so damn formal Annes, it makes my ears itch. Since I’m sure you don’t want to freeze to death tonight you can stay at the room you had. Just don’t make a big deal about it in front of Kjeld and you’ll be fine. And please don’t thank me again, it’s not like I’m giving it to you for free. Also there is still some of the stew left, if you want some.” 

I force myself to exhale the breath I had already taken to bubble out more excuses. The “Okay” I answer with instead sounds lame in my ears and it is almost physically painful to me not to thank her now.

As Iddra busies herself with cleaning the bar again I take my leave. After sitting down at a table in the far off corner of the bar room I wolf down my ration of stew while avoiding eye contact with the rest of the villagers. As soon as I feel it to be appropriate I withdraw myself to my room to finally examine the book.

I sit down on my bed and open it with shaking hands, knowing exactly what I am looking for. As I stare down I fail to make sense of what I see. The pages are empty.

I turn them over furiously. Not one of them has a single written word on it, not even the page numbers are left. Just the fake old paper print is still there.

“FUCK!” I yell as I throw the Histories away. I can feel myself tearing up again. My only lead, worthless. Maybe I overlooked something back at the river. Maybe I didn’t think of something important. Or maybe, maybe there is no sense behind all of this.

Since my whole body aches and my head still hurts I decide to give up for now and go to sleep. I can still worry about all of that while I try to prove myself worthy of food to Kjeld tomorrow. 

 

Only a few hours later I wake from my unruly sleep. As I sit up I look around confused for a moment before I understand as to why. The ground is shaking slightly and the air is buzzing with static. Outside the dogs and cattle are panicking. Then, with a roaring thunder the world shakes until the growling forms three distinct sounds, echoing through the high mountains for all of Skyrim to hear: “ _DO VAH KIIN_ ”

The Greybeards have spoken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for bearing with me through my hiatus! I definitely intend to continue this project and am motivated to expand on it in the future. It might take a little bit longer than I expected, probably due to being my first long term writing project in English. Again, if you can't make sense of any sentence or notice bad grammar mistakes somewhere please let me know! 
> 
> I'm still not entirely happy with the pacing here, but I guess that chapters will just have to vary vastly in length and complexity depending on my ingame experience.


End file.
